The bark

The bark.

Dog beat.

Log seat.

Rotted beneath.

Knotted pines, like wreaths.

The heat.

The shade.

The leaves falling, like a parachute brigade.

Unsaved.

Land on carpets of moss.

Layers and layers on top of the rocks.

They say the snakes sleep to the song of the frogs.

Seated upon the logs.

Percussive noise from the barks of the dogs.

The bark.

Val

Left in shattered tatters.
Waiting to be picked up or to find some new deceitful interlude to temporarily escape into.
Barren are the todays leaving us with nothing in tomorrow's tomorrow or the day after.

Another soft breath has left this landscape and we are forced to sulk like the thirsty. Sapped of all energy, and those few tears that pour from the eyes to land upon parched lips with salt-riddled unwelcomeness are left to the wooden planks that we tread upon.

It has been the year of growth, of destruction and eventual renewal.

Cycle upon cycle, this is all perpetual...eternal.

Life is a mobius strip.

The sanctuary was silent. I turned to look for an ally, someone to share the burden that weighed heavy on my heart and mind.

To the left - no one

To the right - no one

The parting from this shore to the most travelled destination, should be a celebration.

It is rare that a life can be adorned with the generosity, kindness and patience like this one that today we sit and reflect upon.

Given my younger years, wide-eyed, unabashed and dreaming - an attentive ear.

Given my time now, humbled, quieted and grounded - a look of amusement.

Burned into the flesh of my third eye.

A relationship bears its impact when it is permanently removed from your environment. Many of us stop to wonder why we hadn't, we didn't and why not?

A spirit, a soul, so long as it stands on this plain...populates your aura, regardless of what distance is between you and it.

When it leaves this World. That's when the aura is left unpopulated by the soul's presence. It is up to the library of our memory to comfort, acquaint and refresh existence.

In this world, where there are so few to remember.

I will remember you.

...before he is sickened

...and it 's the acquanting that makes us associates.

Like leaves to the ground.

The differences of proxies and broker bets....the money is lost, but the dealer has won.

And then the question of who makes the deals has begun.

But a travesty.

The fortunes of her majesty and his presidency

are the expense of your earnings and residency.

So what if we all disappear?

and reappear in diseases and the forgotten sheets

of treatises.

A tortured pass at rememberance

Forgetfulness is our semblance.

Eclectic ever afters and apocalyptic good byes.

blamed on Sino-senselessness

and Mohammedan eyes.

And what of the leaves on the branch of the tree?

Left to the breeze from which they were seized.

Teased by the idea of being a seed.

Never delved into the depths of this earth.

To stretch upon its roots and spawn a son from its birth,

or daughter

and what of the holy water?

that is splashed upon our heads

or the crops that are grown to keep us from getting the poor fed?

Ethanol is alcohol. Brewed like brandy.

Money is not for you, but for them it is handy.

Swim in the abysmal. Addicted to this riddle. Played to the boss, first and second fiddle

Earth worn and cancer stricken.

World...

please save my son

before he's sickened.